


La douleur exquise

by SpicyWolfsbane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, depressed Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyWolfsbane/pseuds/SpicyWolfsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was the boy mercilessly in love with his own hangman" .</p>
            </blockquote>





	La douleur exquise

**Author's Note:**

> My first James/Severus. This story was influenced A LOT by HIM's song ''Gone with the Sin" and by some angsty dreams revolving around a depressive Severus and his doomed love interest on James. Hm, I really like this pairing... Special thanks to my beta reader Dani (tumblr: danihabisky) <3

He was Snivellus, the ugly git. The ugly greasy git. Snivelly.

He was a frightfully bad looking boy trapped inside a thin and badly cared-for body. An outrageous and disgusting body, like they said, with prominent hip bones, awfully slim torso, long ungracious legs, and that weird large nose. And the greasy hair. Yes, like they shouted. The ugly git that had to wash his greasy disgusting hair.

He was just a poor mediocre boy dressed up in shabby second-hand clothes. His grimy clothes which they love to show to the whole school, to receive some laughs and applause. Yes, his patchy grimy underwear. Pieces of cloths that he had fixed himself to cover some old holes. He was the ugly Snivelly with smelly rotten socks. They usually covered their noses everytime they stole his worn-out shoes. Snivellus, you have to learn to do the laundry.

He was the stupid slytherin brat whose hobbies consisted of snooping on their lives. Sneaking on the corridors to muddle on their new pranks. He was the idiotic nosy boy who deserved to be punished for his audacity. For him to know his place. The disdainful snake who loved to brag about himself, about his own skills, and the mediocrity of their abilities. The stupid proud lions.

He was Snivellus, the solitary snake, loved by no one. The neglected boy who always spent the holidays at Hogwarts, receiving more old threadbare clothes from home as Christmas gifts. The boy who always ended up at Poppy with stomach ache after a sumptuous dinner with food he never saw before, which he couldn't stop eating, almost begging her for relief. The object of disgusted looks from the other slytherins, the reason of the lions' laughs. Didn't mommy teach you how to behave, Snivelly?

He was their favorite victim. And they were his favorite object of hate. His fountain of joy and sorrow. The fuel of his hatred. His escape. His main reasons to sneak at the corridors past curfew, to eagerly follow them, searching for evidence to make them lose points and earn detentions. His utter tool to feel in control, to feel power, to feel satisfaction.

He was the boy who learnt to hate his reflection on the mirror. The one who wished deeply to not have crooked yellowish teeth. The one who learnt that he could hurt his gums while brushing as much as he wanted, but he would never look any better. He would just look more goofy everytime he try to comb his hair, everytime he try to make his clothes look less seedy. Why the permanent sneer on your loathful face, Snivellus?

He was so lost, so young, so afraid, so desperate. Hogwarts was his home, his true home. A true home for a hollow boy in a hollow world. And they were so strong, so blessed, so brave. And they didn't need him as much as he need them. He didn't need him as much as Severus needed him.

He was the boy who loved every single tear. Every one of them. He waited impatiently for every prank, for every laugh, for every cruel word, hurting him like knives. He loved to be stabbed by the harsh phrases. Because after feeling less worth than a worm, he could cuddle his old soaked pillow and sleep. Knowing that in some weird way they had a bond. At least, that him and the spoiled lion had a bond.

He was the boy _he_ would never smile at. The boy that _he_ would never greet, that _he_ would never see, that _he_ would never care for. He was the boy mercilessly in love with his own hangman. Buried deep in his very core. He was the boy craving for _him_. Utterly, desperately. The owner of the skin the lion would repulse, the mouth _he_ would loathe to kiss. He was the boy drowning on his own misery, trapped on his own snare.

He was just the boy who wished… At least for one time… To close his eyes… Who just ever wanted…

He was the boy that saw Lily and him kissing, and exchanging loving words.

He was the boy staring at his green curtains, completely torn apart.

He was the boy with sore throat, red eyes and blotchy cheeks.

He was the boy who discovered that his misery have more depth than he thought.

He was the boy astonished of how shattered his heart was. Bitterly astounding.

It was beyond pain. It was numbness.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not good to chose titles for my stories. This one was particularly difficult. So I was looking for some words or phrases about unrequited love and I found 'la douleur exquise' on a list of phrases about love that couldn't be translated to english. It doesn't mean exactly unrequited love, but this is the general idea, according to the sites I saw. A general definition could be "the heart-wrenching pain of wanting affection of someone unattainable". But I guess it makes more sense to people who understands french xD


End file.
